working for the Great Northern because I never failed’,” continued Stanley.
“Say,” mumbled Abner, pausing, “if ye two keep on a bee-line I guess ye’ll fetch out all right. I’m going back to Ben and Joe. It’s not so unpleasant back there after all.”
Regardless of the danger Bub gave a shriek of laughter and leaned weakly against a tree.
“Be ye mad?” cried Abner in a smothered voice. “What ye laffing at, ye young varmint? Want to git caught ag’in? Think I can spend all summer up here a gitting of ye loose?”
“Oh, Abner! Abner,” exploded Bub. “Tell him, Stan. Tell him, before I drop.”
“Mr. Whitten, I’ve found the ancient record,” quietly informed Stanley.
“Found what?” asked Abner in a dazed voice.
“The original record. It was on the big beech we passed so many times. The bark had grown over it so it would never be noticed. I found it by accident, of course. I was idly tapping the tree and noticed the wood sounded dull and dead in one spot. When I cut away the bark there was the record. The two circles linked, cut by an arrow, showing the course, and beneath were the initials of the original owner.”
